The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1887-11-16
DEATH ON THE GARR0TE.
A DREADFUL PICTURE OF CAPITAL
PUNISHMENT IN SPAIN.

How a Holiday Is Celebrated in the
Land of the Olive-Tho Temptation
with which "a Criminal Met His
Doom.
Suddenly the crowd halts and n great
silence falls. A close carriage, with
blinds down, escorted by n picket of civil
guards, slowly passes through the press.
We can follow it without hurrying our
selves.
In a little while the place of execution
appears before me, thronged with a null
titude swaying like II tide, and up from
the sea of heads energies the white mast
of the scafrold.
I approach.
Lying upon q stool, covered with q snow
white cloth, is the garrote itsclf-shim-
mering like n crown of steel. In a little
while the cxecntioner will attach it to a
post against which the criminal is to be
fastened. The final preparations con-
sumed considerable time, so that was
well able to make Il leisurely examination
of the sinister locality whittier curiosity
had drawn me for the purpose of studying
the physioynomy of the great pushing or
squeezing crowd. As always, and in all
places, the women were the most numer-
Gus.
Now there is n great movement around
the scaffold. The soldiers close their
ranks IL three men approach the scat
fold. One of them ascends it. 1t is the
executioner. lie is thin, low sized and
looks about 40 years old. While waiting
for his victim he keeps walking n%ervously
to and fro with his hands behind his back
and his head down. From time to time
he stops and looks at the argolla (the
"garrote'o with u suspicious expression
of c~ountenance. Perhaps he is afraid Of
the power of resistance possessed by the
cervical vertebre Of Alvarez, and is there
fore afraid of losing his bounty.
II DISMAL scAFFoLD.
Noisy as it was a little while ago, the
crowd now suddenly becomes silent.
Some women are turning pale; and one
can feel that a nervous excitement weighs
upon the crowd. A low rumbling is
heard. 1t is the black carriage that bears
the condemned man. 1t stops at the foot
of the scaffold; and the criminal is soon
painfully climbing the twelve high steps
of the dismal scaffold, leaning on the arm
Of a priest. Another priest precedes him,
lifting very high ar immense %cruciflx,
toward which the condemned man strives
to turn his terror stricken face. Alvarez
Olivia is not yet % years old; and it was
believed thai the savage energy he had
displayed in committing his crime, to-
gether with his vigorous youth, would
give him strength to face death. But
nothing of the kind Is now shown by him;
and really it was too much to expect of a
man who knew his fate forty-eight hours
ago, and who, while listening to the fu-
neral chants in the prison chapel, must
have beheld all kinds of hideous visions
passing before him.
This rule of obliging the condemned to
listen during the two nights preceding his
execution to an interminable series Of
prayers, requie1ns, De Profundis chants,
uttered for the repose of his soul by his
fellow criminals, seems to me something
Rtrocious; n l can see in it the last
yestige of the ferocious medieval mysti-
cism of Spain, with all its unconscious
cruelty. As / stood on an elevation over.
looking the scaffold, l was able to observe
all the details of the last scene of the
tragedy. The condemned man mechan-
icaAy yielded himself up to the executioner.
The latter sat down at the foot of the
post, with his back to it and then tied his
hands and feet hard and fast. He did all
this without hurrying himself in the least,
and with all the digni1ed indifference
which characterizes the Spanish function
airy in the discharge of his duty. If the
preparations had lasted even a few seconds
longer l believe 1 should have lost my
own self control. 1 could hear my heart
humping in my breast, and every mo-
ment or W something like q veil came
before my eyes.
H IRON COLLAR.
You could not ever hear 4 whisper in
the crowd. While one of the priests
pressed n crucifix to the colorless lips of
the sufferer, another was inurmuring
words of consolation and hope into his
ear. But the wretched man was not
listening. His expressionless face had a
waxen pallor, and his eyes, as they wan
dered over the ocean of faces before him,
already seemed dim with the dizziness Of
death.
He started considerably when the exc
cutioner placed the iron collar about his
neck, and I observed his mouth contract. Z
Then, however, q white covering thrown
over his features hid them from further
observation. The executioner then gave
two or three turns of the screws connect
ed with the instrument of death. The
bones of the neck cracked, a long trem-
bling ran through the whole body, the
arms twisted outward, the legs inward,
Alvarez Olivia was dead.
The priests took off their square caps, as
If to salute the soul passing by, and the
executioner concealed the covering that
concealed the dead mans face. That face,
which had been SO pallid a momen before,
was now purple. The tumiiled tongue
protruded from the mouth and the bloody
eyes had spurted out of their sockets. The |
head had fallen slightly toward the right
shoulder, and the black inter, with white
cross, that had been placed upon it, seemed
about to tall off.
The crowd ebbed away silently, evil
IDENTITY much affected, while two gen
darmes with rifles mounted guard at the
foot of the scaffold, where the corpse was
to remain until evening, when the corpo,
ration of female mourners would escort it
to the cemetery of Executed criminals.
with long, piercing cries of lamentation.
like the Yu! yu! yu! Of Arab women.-
New York Star.